


Lost In Japan

by murderofonerose (atmilliways)



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Drug Use, Everybody loves Offdensen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-14 16:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16916217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atmilliways/pseuds/murderofonerose
Summary: This is a Choose Your Own Adventure fic! Leave a comment with a brief prompt on the first chapter to request who couldn't get Charles off their mind and flew to his hotel room, or on any of the following chapters to request a continuation.How far am I going to take this? Let's find out together.





	1. Do you got plans tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> _Do you got plans tonight?_   
>  _I'm a couple hundred miles from Japan, and I_   
>  _I was thinking I could fly to your hotel tonight_   
>  _'Cause I can't get you off my mind_

Charles had never been one for wanderlust, but he did enjoy business trips. Getting out of Mordhaus for a bit, often without the boys unless he was coming along for a tour, was a breath of fresh air in his otherwise strict routine. As a younger man he hadn’t been quite so enthusiastic; social skills were not his forte, particularly in an unfamiliar environment. But the combination of experience, fame, and great wealth went a long way towards smoothing the very few rough edges he still possessed. 

With regards to this particular trip, he was actually more fluent in Japanese than his hosts realized. Charles was fine with that. While his translator repeated everything back for him in English, he was already working out the best way to structure the business deal under negotiation to Dethklok’s benefit. At meals he could catch that someone was ordering fish eyeballs, or horse sashimi, or sea cucumber as a “delicacy” for the white foreigner, and have time to prepare himself to eat it with perfectly composed stoicism. It all earned him quite a bit of extra respect. 

His dethphone vibrated in his pocket during a presentation. Not one that he was giving, but it would have been unseemly to be caught giving in to a distraction when he should be paying attention, so aside from noting briefly that it was a text and not a missed call, Charles ignored it. After the meeting and some necessary glad handing, he stole a minute to slip into the restroom and check the message. 

_“Plans tonight?”_

Charles sighed. The amount of time he spent telling everyone who ought to know his exact itinerary had obviously been misspent. He texted back, _“I’m in Tokyo on business and will be attending an important dinner.”_ Then, against his better judgement, he added, _“Why?”_

The answer came immediately and was essentially _because I can’t get you off my mind_ , but longer and more lewd. Charles sighed again, this time a little wistfully. 

_“I’m afraid I can’t tonight. But text my assistant, maybe we can arrange something for this weekend. Just tell him it’s work-related, please.”_

Then he had to return to the conference room for the next appointment, and all thoughts of a passionate rendezvous were swept aside for the time being. 

Overall, the trip was going well. Only a few minor details that had yet to be favorably decided — but Charles had a strategy. It involved inviting a select few of the other men with controlling interests in this deal to his grand hotel suite after dinner for fine brandy, cigars, and outright bribery in the form of early release partial copies of the next album. Sure, those water files would eventually hit the black market, but that was why Charles had half a dozen more ready to sell under the table once said market drove up the price value fighting over the first set. 

So he was feeling rather smug as the elevator doors slid open and he led the way down the short hallway to his penthouse suite. Everything would fall into place exactly as planned. He had everything well in hand. 

Smiling faintly, Charles unlocked the door. “Right this way,” he said and pushed it open, taking the first step inside 

He didn’t realize until too late that right there, on the couch that wrapped around the suite’s large kotatsu, was...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part... is up to you! I have some suggestions from Calliopinot and Little_Murmaider so far (get excited and/or brace yourself guys) already, but I am definitely open to more.
> 
> Leave a comment below with a pairing and a suggestion about their seduction technique and I will add it to my list.


	2. Skwisgaar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skwisgaar and “exceedingly extra romantic, rose petals and shit," requested by Calliopinot.

... There, on the couch that wrapped around the suite’s large kotatsu, was Skwisgaar Skwigelf in all his seductive glory, naked as the day he was born.   
  
Somehow, the man had managed to adjust the lights so that he was in the spotlight. Melodic death metal guitar solos played softly in the background, and rose petals ranging in color from freshly spilled blood red to so dark they looked black were strewn across the couch cushions, the tabletop, and in a path leading all the way to the door. A massive ice bucket graced the table as well, lit tea candles twinkling inside delicate glass baubles that floated around a magnum of champagne which — Charles was fervently thankful — strategically shielded _certain bits_ from view of some of the most powerful men in Japan.   
  
Some of whom were craning their necks to see what the holdup was over his shoulder. Instinct set in, one part self-preservation and four parts loyalty to the band, and Charles cleared his throat and stepped back into the hall. “Gentlemen, my apologies,” he said quickly as he shut the door and turned. “I believe there’s been some miscommunication with regards to Mr. Skwigelf’s accommodations. Can we take a, ah, rain check on brandy and cigars? I really should speak to the hotel manager, get this little mixup resolved.”  
  
As soon as he’d gotten rid of them, he let himself back into the room where Skwisgaar was still provocatively posed, marching up to the kotatsu with his mouth set in a hard line of disapproval and arms crossed over his chest.   
  
“Wells,” Skwisgaar purred after a moment, gesturing to himself, “whats of this does you think?”  
  
“I think I told you I was busy tonight,” Charles replied evenly.   
  
Skwisgaar arched his eyebrows, the gesturing hand drifting slowly down his chest. “Oh. Ja, I supposes you said sos. But, you sees...” Nimble fingers teased at one rosy nipple before slipping further downward. Charles, though he had the self-discipline not to react, couldn’t help following its progress with his eyes. “... We was close bys for dat awards ceremony thing, practicallies in same times zones even, and I was so boreds. All de times I thinks abouts... other things.”  
  
By this time his voice had grown huskier and his hand had settled in his nether regions, stroking in time to the music that was still playing. It was a fairly slow song, rich and seductive, probably one of Skwisgaar’s own compositions that hadn’t been deemed quite brutal enough to make it into Dethklok’s repertoire but still stunning in its complexity and technical precision. Those same fingers had stroked the notes expertly from the guitar... Charles felt quite moved to swallow hard and redirect his gaze to the Swede’s face, where there was already a knowing, wanton smile. And even a little lip biting going on.   
  
Skwisgaar’s libido has never failed to surprise Charles. Once upon a time the man had put in some amount of effort to bring women home, but as the band’s popularity first grew, then exploded, it fell more and more to the manager to keep the queue of eager bodies well stocked. It had been Charles’ first major challenge outside of finances and PR, and he’d marveled, in a distant sort of way, at the variety of preferences and depth of sexual appetite that yawned beneath the pale skin and gilded hair of just one person. And then — what holiday had it been? One of the drinking ones, which for Dethklok was any day ending in Y — Skwisgaar had wandered into his office half dressed but recently showered, and bleakly announced that he’d gone through all the women in the Haus yet still desperately needed some release. Any kind, anything readily available. He’d looked at Charles and bit his plush bottom lip, pupils dilating slightly, and...  
  
They weren’t a couple. It wasn’t that formal an arrangement as that. Skwisgaar continued to sleep around more or less indiscriminately, and Charles was still married to his work. But always, Skwisgaar made a point to throw in romantic touches here and there. If he were any less worked up than he was now he usually liked to put on a show of seduction — little “accidentalies” touches, low whispers, smoldering looks. The rose petals, champagne, and candles were more over the top than usual, but the effort was still there.

Charles relented, loosening his tie and moving to join the other man on the couch. “I had to tell them you were expecting some geisha visitors and got the wrong room,” he murmured, sliding a hand into blond hair. Skwisgaar leaned into the touch with an eager moan.   
  
“Ams it a problems?”   
  
“No,” Charles replied. “Not really.” And then Skwisgaar was kissing him and urgently helping him out of his suit and thoughtfully providing a condom and sliding into his lap to satisfy the one itch that all the groupies and GMFILFs and sluts couldn’t scratch...   
  
Business could wait until tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a choose your own adventure story, the next chapter will be an alternate ending with a different surprise paramour. Spoiler alert, it's gonna be Nathan. If you want to see anyone else, leave a comment below!


	3. Nathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan and “ trying to do that eating sushi off the body thing, but he’s just eating sushi off his own belly like an otter, it’s not sexy at all," requested by Little_Murmaider.

... There, on the couch that wrapped around the suite’s large kotatsu, was Nathan. He was in the process of picking up a piece of nigiri in his mouth with his fingers, the faux paus of not using chopsticks completely overshadowed by his utter nakedness, and the fact that he was propped up on a pile of pillows eating off his own chest and stomach.  

The overall effect was not flattering, but it must have been intended to be enticing. Eating food off of someone was supposed to be erotic, right? They’d never done it before, but then there was a lot that neither of them had done before becoming involved. And under other circumstances it still would have been endearing. Cute, even. But...

Their eyes met. Nathan’s expression was that of a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar — mouth too full to speak, sheepish, but still happy to see him. The best Charles could hope for, he knew, was that Nathan didn’t see the small crowd behind him before he stepped back into the hall and yanked the door shut again. 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said smoothly with a fixed, neutral expression. “It seems my rooms have been commandeered, so I’ll have to take a rain check on brandy and cigars...”

Inside the room, Nathan blinked stupidly at the closed door. Why... would Charles do that? Fuck, did he hate sushi? No, they’d gone out for Japanese food on their, hrmmmm, fourth date. Was it the naked part? It had been a while since he’d hit the gym and he was still carrying the winter weight he’d put on... a couple years ago, but he couldn’t look that bad. Charles was fairly prim and proper, sure, but he’d never objected non-public displays of nudity before unless Nathan was... disrupting... his... _workohfucktherewerepeople_. 

It was worse than those anxiety dreams where he walked into a classroom or out on stage or something and realized he was totally naked, because he was _awake_  and that had _really just happened_ and Charles probably thought he was _so stupid._  

Already in the elevator speeding down to the lobby, Charles winced at the distant echoes of _Noooooooooooooo_  that was only barely covered by inane elevator music. 

He finished distributing the “illicit” water tracks, gauging what the businessmen had seen at very little. Probably not even enough to fuel many rumors, though the bribe would go quite a way towards keeping mouths shut. For now, the important thing was that the deal was going to swing in Dethklok’s favor and no one had taken any pictures. 

Charles left them in the lobby to wait for their various drivers, returning to the bank of elevators and jabbing the up button with no regard for his own fingers. He spent the entire ride up tapping his foot impatiently without noticing he was doing it, all thoughts focused on getting back to Nathan and apologizing for slamming the door in his face. Of course, if Nathan had just listened to him earlier in the day and scheduled a rendezvous via his assistant, none of this would have happened... But Charles couldn’t bring himself to blame the man for that. For one thing, he had never been able to hold anything against Nathan for long, for reasons that had been unfathomable to him before their first kiss. For another, he was well aware that the entire band barely had enough impulse control between the five of them to fill a child’s thimble, and probably shouldn’t have been surprised. 

The elevator chimed and opened on his floor, and Charles walked briskly to his door. He unlocked it, hesitated, and then knocked gently before opening it. 

“Ah, Nathan? It’s just me this time.”

There was no answer so Charles let himself in. The frontman of the most powerful band in the world was still just as naked and covered in sushi, his entire head now hidden under the pile of pillows. 

“Are you, ah, alright over there?”

There was a muffled groan. The pile of pillows shifted slightly to reveal one glaring emerald eye. “No,” Nathan replied shortly. 

Charles looked down at his shoes. It wasn’t as though he was any good at dealing with awkward and embarrassing situations either. Nathan’s discomfort was motivation enough to try, but he wasn’t sure where to start so he just went about getting comfortable for the night. First he toed his shoes off his feet, not bothering with untying the laces and leaving them by the door. Then he shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over a chair, padding over to the couch in his socks, loosening his tie with one hand and raking the other through his hair as he went. He sat on the couch, next to Nathan’s hip, and slid his legs under the kotatsu’s thick blanket. It had been a long day and the heat radiating from the underside of the low table was welcome and relaxing. He picked up the chopsticks that had been left out for him and, despite having already eaten one dinner earlier, delicately lifted a piece of salmon sashimi to his mouth. 

Nathan squirmed a little at the contact, despite still stubbornly staying in his pillowfort of solitude, and Charles caught himself smiling faintly. He tapped the other man on the belly with his chopsticks, trying to get him to stop sucking his stomach in, willing him to catch the _you look fine_  intended by the gesture.  

Now that their audience was gone, Charles’ thoughts kept drifting back to Nathan’s horny messages from earlier in the day. Trying to rekindle that was an appealing idea. Some coaxing was obviously going to be required, but that was fine. After all, he was nothing if not dedicated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There could be more of this. I kind of started writing more, but it kept fizzling. Prompt me.


	4. Rockso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Rockso, the Rock N Roll clown. He does cocaine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate that clown, but I got a request and, well, here you go.

... There, on the couch that wrapped around the suite’s large kotatsu, was a sight that made Charles’ blood freeze in absolute terror, simultaneous thoughts of _but no one is supposed to know_ and _oh god what’s going to happen here_ vying for supremacy.   
  
Doctor Rockso smirked at him through the wide grin of his clown makeup, but the bastard was a consummate performer. He kept up, arms spread wide in a welcome gesture that encompassed the couch, the massive pile of cocaine on the table, and the entire room in general as he addressed Charles’ guests directly. “Welcome to the pa-pa-pa-party, baby! I hope you all like cocaine!”   
  
It would have been more convincing, Charles thought, if he’d been wearing his usual jumpsuit. Instead, Rockso wore an even more revealing and horrifying speedo that someone, damn their soul to hell, had designed to look like a bright yellow banana held on by straps. It looked like— Charles groaned inwardly. It looked like a banana peel left out for someone to slip on. _Goddamn clown._ The matching bright yellow hair under his black peaked cap did not improve the look.   
  
Murmuring in approval, the businessmen began streaming in around Charles. Rockso hovered at the kotatsu for a moment while they made themselves comfortable, gleefully handing out American bills (mostly ones) to roll up and snort through. He took a quick line for himself before sidling over to the stiff and grimly silent CFO. “C’mon man, unclench a little,” he said, swinging an arm loosely across Charles’ shoulders. “Don’t you want to join the party?”   
  
Each word was drawn out suggestively, and the worst part of it was that he _did_ . Although it was a very occasional habit, Charles had a deep appreciation for the freedom in how getting high made all his concerns drop away. It made him feel like he could deal with anything. Fend off a shadowy, pseudo-government organization that might, among other things, want to brutally dismember the metal empire he helped build? Nothing he couldn’t handle. Big business deal that he’d been working on for months and would bring in billions of dollars in the next quarter, yet still had an ever so slight change of falling through? No problem, everything would work out fine. Having an affair with a rock and roll clown who was generally regarded by everyone, Charles usually included, as a huge dick, which if made public could completely ruin his reputation and probably even get him fired on top of that? Whatever, just do it, who’s really going to find out. There was a lot of stress attached to running the world’s sixth largest economy and cocaine provided an excellent vacation from that for about thirty minutes a snort.   
  
Shaking off the arm, which had quickly slipped from his shoulders so Rockso could make a grab for his suit trousers, Charles shot him a hard look that was equal parts _Yes_ and _You will pay for putting me on the spot like this._   
  
“Offdensen-san,” the translator called from across the room, a generous smudge of white powder caught in his thin mustache. “This is very generous of you! I have been asked to tell you that my employers would like to extend similar consideration to you in our dealings.”   
  
“I’m very glad to hear that,” Charles replied, still glaring at Rockso. “Gentlemen, please feel free to indulge in the liquor cabinet as well— Yes, I see you’ve found it, very good. I just need a moment to speak in private with my, ah, associate here. Please excuse us.”   
  
It was bad hospitality, he knew, but he also knew that Rockso was only going to get more handsy and that was best done in private.   
  
He clamped a hand on the clown’s wrist below the spiked black wristband and marched him into the next room. As soon as the door was shut he rounded on Rockso, prepared to deliver a heated reprimand in a low voice so no one out in the main room would hear. How dare he disrupt his work like this, how _dare_ he not do as instructed and schedule an appointment. But in fact, the first thing that made it out of his mouth was, “How the hell did you get a key to my room?”   
  
“Are you kidding?” Rockso flashed him shit-eating grin, this time throwing in a wink as well. Bastard. “I’m Doctor Rockso, the rock-n-roll clown, and I’m ka-ka- _kawaii_ ! I fuckin’ love Japan, and Japan loves me baby.”   
  
Charles was drawing breath to deliver a scathing rebuttal, vehemently, when the clown brought a hand out from behind his back. In his agitation he hadn’t noticed it was there. Rockso’s fist was closed tightly around a handful of something, and all it took, all it fucking took was a second of hesitation on Charles’ part. That tiny and usually quiescent part of himself that wanted to just say fuck it and let go, because he knew what that was.   
  
The handful of cocaine nailed him right in the face. It went up both nostrils, and a little bit in his open mouth. He reflexively coughed and ran his tongue over his teeth.   
  
“How’s that sweet cocaine taste, baby?”   
  
It tasted bitter, not sweet at all, and it burned on the inside of his nose and back of his throat, but the numbing effect was setting in quickly. There was even powder on his lenses. Still coughing, Charles took the glasses off and tossed them onto a nearby dresser with one hand, loosening the knot of his tie with the other. At least that made breathing a little easier, although the coughing had made his face feel warm — a little preview of the effects to come.   
  
“You know that’s going to take at least ten minutes to set in,” he pointed out, wiping the remaining powder from his face.   
  
“Mm-hmmm,” Rockso answered smugly. He bounced forward a bit on his toes as he said it, causing his... banana peel to bob.   
  
“And you know that if I wanted to, I could have you choking on your own arterial blood before that happens?”   
  
Rockso winked. “Yeah baby, but I’d rather choke on _something else_ , if you know what I’m sayin.’”   
  
“All right then.” Without further warning — although really, this had been going on for long enough for the clown to expect it for a line like that — Charles struck out. It was a glancing blow off Rockso’s shoulder, meant to spin him around more than really hurt. Then he gave him a shove towards the bed. “You have forty minutes to make this worth my time.”   
  
Rockso stumbled in that direction with a grating laugh. “You’re an angel ,” he snickered.   
  
Charles knew he was being a bad host. He also knew that the men in the next room likely didn’t care, or wouldn’t soon. What held his attention now was the wrongness, the lewd filthiness of Rockso flopping on the bed and grinning up eagerly, licking his lips in anticipation. What spurred Charles on was the thought of how shocked everyone who knew him would be if they found out that the clean cut, perfectly pressed, faultlessly efficient man they thought they knew was almost painfully hard at the display. He had been ever since he’d first seen the damn clown lounging on the couch, even though the only thing particularly special about Rockso was a kind of dirtiness that rubbed off on everything he touched — and before long he was touching Charles everywhere as ordered, as desired.   
  
It was only an occasional habit, this willing debasement of character, but it was dangerously addictive.


End file.
